This Too Shall Pass
by nayaisallkindsofawesome
Summary: An account of the secrets behind Santana. *NOTE: Rating changed to M for graphic sexual content; potential trigger warning: child abuse, rape, self-harm, drugs
1. If I Was Only Dreaming

**Chapter 1: If I Was Only Dreaming  
><strong>  
>Santana knew what was going to happen. It always happened like this. The car pulling up into the driveway, the bustling sound as he hurried to gather his belongings from the back seat, the slamming of the door against the car's frame… Santana longed for a time when family insinuated love. But she had long since realized that the legal definition of family had nothing to do with what family truly meant. Or perhaps it was the other way around…<p>

Santana nearly fell over as she was dragged out of her reverie by the bang of the front door. She heard her stepfather swearing and murmuring to himself as he bashed around the kitchen. She heard the clink of glass as he poured himself the night's first drink. Only six-thirty and he was already into his Scotch; Santana knew it was going to be a rough night.

Attempting to turn her focus back to her math homework, Santana reached into her drawer and pulled out the small pill bottle. The medication prescribed for her ever present anxiety. She opened the bottle and peered at its contents. Nine small blue pills left. Shit. She'd picked up the prescription only last week. _I've got to stop abusing these, _she thought as she tossed the bottle back into the lock-box she had secreted away in her desk. Instead she pulled out another bottle, bigger than the first. Turning to examine the label, she made a quick mental list of the pros and cons of abusing yet another dose of her ADHD medication. _I've got to get these damn problems finished and write another draft of that stupid essay…_She glanced at the clock on her computer screen. Six thirty-three. That gave her anywhere between two and four hours to complete the necessary assignments. _Fuck it_, she decided, reaching into the bottle and removing one of the small white pills. She placed it carefully on the desk and was about to bring the top of the bottle down upon it, when she heard another crash from below her.

Santana jumped up from her desk at the sound of footsteps stomping on the stairs. _No, no, no it's not even seven! Why is he coming upstairs already? _She grabbed her stuffed kitten from the bed and flung herself through into the bathroom, pulling the door shut behind her. Reaching up to lock it, she fell against the door, as if her small body weight would be enough to hinder her stepfather from entering the cramped space. But when there was no yelling, no insults or foul language, no banging on the door; the tears began to fall. If he hadn't come upstairs to begin Santana's nearly nightly torment, he was almost definitely in his own room, collecting his favorite objects of torturous intent.

The anticipation of what he would do to her was overwhelming. Her teary breathing turned to nauseating gasps as she pictured the hours to come. She fell forward and slammed her face against the ceramic tiling, desperate to feel something other than fearful anticipation. This inherent need drew her memory towards what lay tucked away in the bottom drawer of the bathroom cupboard. The only thoughts permeating Santana's terrified mind were those of the solace she would find by crawling into this particular pill bottle. Unlike the others she had considered, these were not prescribed to Santana, and the nagging realization of her looming drug addiction harried her as she popped open the bottle and dumped its contents onto the floor. The small pink pills scattered, the imprinted OC facing up on some, 20 facing up on others. Santana grabbed one of them and swept the rest back into the bottle. She pulled herself into a sitting position in order to reach into the pocket of her Cheerios jacket. From its depths she pulled her credit card, and the straw she had found in an empty Dunkin' Donuts bag under the seat of Brittany's truck earlier that before she could inhale the powder from the pill she had demolished between the tiles and the card, she heard the crash against her bedroom door.

"Santana Lopez, open this goddamn door right now!" She heard her stepfather's yells as she quickly bent her head and breathed in the chemicals.

"Right now bitch! Open this goddamn door RIGHT NOW!"

"I'm coming! I'm sorry, I'm coming!" Santana whimpered; her scathing 'Head Bitch in Charge' attitude was nowhere to be found. She collected the equipment of her latest endeavor and tossed it back into the bottom drawer. She wrenched the bathroom door open and scampered towards her stepfather's voice.

"IF YOU DON'T OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW I'M GOIN—" Santana chose that moment to flip the lock and pull back the handle. He towered over the small girl. She trembled as his eyes roamed over her, his gaze ripping through her Cheerios uniform to what lay beneath. He swung his arm down towards Santana, and she yelped as the back of his hand contacted her cheek. The force knocked her against her dresser, and she groped for the wooden frame to steady herself, but another blow came and sent her careening to the floor, where she didn't bother to right herself. He tugged down the zipper of her jacket and she squeezed her eyes closed, hoping to block out all that was forthcoming. _Brittany,_ Santana thought. _Think about Brittany._ But just as she began to float away on thoughts of her beautiful girlfriend, a stinging swipe across her face brought her back to the present situation.

"No, no, no, I want you right here, not off somewhere pretending you don't like it. We both know you want it. Tell me how much you want me, bitch," his husky drawl frightened Santana.

"I-I want you," she muttered. The words on her tongue made her sick. Who could want something like this?

"Well that's not very convincing," His eyes held a look of pure, joyful anticipation. "Perhaps you'd rather have something else?" He reached over and picked up one of the toys he'd brought with him. His brutal approach to the use of these objects was not in Santana's favor.

"N-No, no I-I want you, please, I want y-you," Santana stammered through the request, hoping she wouldn't be sick.

"That's what I thought," his tone turned harsher with every word. Santana felt him rip off the top of her uniform, and pull up her skirt. She'd shut her eyes again, hoping he wouldn't notice in his hurry to undress her. She felt herself being lifted, then felt the floor as she was dropped on her front. She felt him against her thigh as he lifted her hips. _Please let this be over soon_. She gasped as he forced himself into her…

"San, wake up, please baby wake up it's just a dream. It's just a dream babe, please wake up," Brittany cooed into Santana's ear while the dark skinned girl continued to cry out in her sleep. Brittany hated to see Santana so restless, and she reached for her in the dark, hoping to hold her close enough to chase away Santana's demons. Brittany knew the film playing in her girlfriends mind, and the thought of what he was doing to her made Brittany want to explode. As she drew Santana to her, the sleeping girl fought against her, suddenly very awake.

"It's okay San, it's just me. It's Britt, it's not him. You're here, you're safe with me, it's just us baby," Brittany's soothing words brought Santana back to the present. Her eyes, wild with fear, searched the darkness for her lover as she groped for her hand.

"Let me get you some water," Brittany moved to climb out of bed, but Santana grabbed her.

"No, don't leave me Britt, don't leave me alone. I don't want to be alone," Santana wept, and Brittany repositioned herself against her girlfriend.

"I'll never leave you, baby girl. Never."


	2. The Glint of Escape

**Chapter 2: The Glint of Escape**

"Britt, I don't think I'm gonna make it through today. Can you just tell Mr. Shue that I'm sick?" Santana had been pleading with her girlfriend for upwards of twenty minutes. Brittany might not be the brightest, but she definitely was the most stubborn.

"San, I don't want you sitting in bed all day thinking about everything. That will only make it worse, babe, you know that. Remember last time?" Brittany was sure that Santana did remember last time, and Brittany did not want a repeat. "Come on Santana, I know you can do this. You're the strongest person I know. Plus, it's Monday! New Glee assignments!"

_Ugh_. All Santana wanted to do was sleep the day away; to crawl under the sheets and hide from the sunlight. But Brittany was the only person in Santana's life who could chase the night terrors away, and without her there, Santana knew that sleep would evade her. So she kicked back the comforter and rolled out of bed.

Brittany, satisfied with her girlfriends efforts, turned to her closet and pulled out her laundered Cheerios uniform. She could feel Santana's gaze as she bent over to pull on the skirt.

"God Brittany, you're beautiful," Santana breathed. How could Brittany ever have fallen in love with her? _No,_ Santana shook those thoughts from her mind. _Brittany loves me, and I love Brittany._ But she couldn't quite shake the overwhelming feeling of darkness that had seeped in with her inklings of self-worthlessness, and before she could escape into the bathroom, Brittany turned and saw the despair etched on Santana's face.

"No. No, no, no, no, no, Santana, look at me," Brittany pounced back onto the bed and grasped Santana's face between her hands. "Look at me San. I. Love. You. I love you, and nothing will ever change that. Don't let him get to you, nothing he says is true. Nothing Santana, you're amazing and I will always, always, _always, _love you."

"But Britt," Santana sobbed, her tears cascading over Brittany's fingers, "Britt, I can't help it. I know what he says isn't true, I know that, but I can't make this… this _awful_ feeling go away and it makes everything so _hard._"

"Baby, I know it's hard, and I know the things he says and does make it impossible to think any other way, but you've got to listen to me," Brittany's voice was strained now, and Santana could sense her frustration. Her self-hatred bubbled out of control as she realized she was, again, stuck in this cycle. Every time Santana felt this inward detestation, Brittany tried to rescue her from herself. But talking never helped; Santana couldn't find words to describe her emotional turmoil, and that lead her even farther into her confusion, frustration, and anguish.

"Yea, you're right. I'm just being stupid," Santana remarked, making a silent decision not to involve her girlfriend in her inner conflicts. _If I lost Brittany…._Santana couldn't think about the possibility without approaching a mental breakdown. "If I let it get to me, I'm just letting him win, right?" Santana pulled out of Brittany's grasp and moved towards the dresser. She pulled out a pair of underwear and a bra, slipping them on as she turned towards the bedroom door.

"I'm gonna get ready for school. Meet you downstairs?" Brittany narrowed her eyes when Santana spoke, as if she didn't trust her girlfriend's sudden mood shift. As well she shouldn't, Santana was spiraling towards a crash landing in the form of sharp metal against bare skin. "Don't squint your eyes at me missy, I'm just going to pee and wash my face, ok? I love you." Santana ran back to her girlfriend and nuzzled her neck before attacking her with kisses. "I'll be downstairs in a few minutes."

But as soon as Santana rounded the corner into the bathroom, she collapsed against the bathtub. Lying to Britt only fueled her self-loathing. From where she was sprawled on the floor, she couldn't reach the built in cabinet on the wall. The shiny white ceramic was cold on her palms as she pulled herself up to stand. In the cabinet she found what she needed. She pulled one of the lady's razors from its casing, and jammed the pair of tweezers she'd found between the layers of metal and plastic. Santana peeled back the supportive material and removed the blades. They shone in the harsh light, and the glint reflected the feverish longing on Santana's face. _I hate how much I love this; how much I need this._ And she drew the blade across her skin.

Everyone thought Brittany was stupid. Sometimes it was just easier to pretend like she didn't know anything, so people didn't expect anything. Brittany struggled with peer pressure and self-confidence, and if others had low expectations, she could have low expectations of herself. But when it came to Santana, Brittany knew everything. She could read Santana's every movement, gesture and expression. Brittany knew when her girlfriend was not okay, and Brittany knew that right now was one of those times. _How could I not know? _Brittany thought. _When the most important person in my life is hurting, I am hurting too. _


	3. Silence Is The Loudest Scream

**Chapter 3: Silence is the Loudest Scream**

Santana let out a low harsh breath when she looked down at the damage she'd inflicted. The blood pooled within the wound, threatening to spill over her hip and onto the white tile. She reached for the roll of toilet paper and layered the thin tissue across the deep cut. Leaning back against the bathtub, she took another deep breath and closed her eyes.

Santana stopped cutting on her forearms and moved to her hips and stomach when Coach Sylvester noticed. When Coach confronted Santana about the white scars that streaked her arms, Santana mumbled an excuse about a childhood encounter with a violent cat. Coach Sylvester had accepted the excuse, but Santana knew that in no way meant Coach believed her. After that, Santana's arms had been subject to frequent glances from the coach whenever Santana executed her cheerleading routines. No one else ever asked about the scars, and Santana knew it was because no one cared. No one, except Brittany.

Brittany first discovered Santana's cuts one afternoon after Cheerios practice. Coach Sylvester had called Santana to her office after the session, and so the girls parted ways in the locker room. It wasn't until Brittany pulled into the Dunkin' Donut's parking lot and reached for her wallet, that she realized her backpack was still in her locker. Grabbing her phone from her pocket, she entered Santana's number.

"_Hey, this is Santana's phone, so if you're trying to call Santana, good job. I'll get back to you when I can, if I care." _Santana's soft, sexy voice chilled Brittany even in recorded form. Realizing she had no other option, she pulled out of the parking lot and headed back towards William McKinley High School.

Walking back through the empty halls of the high school made Brittany anxious, and she scurried towards the locker room. But when she threw open the door, she heard the guttural cries and sharp breathes reverberating against the tiled walls and metal fixtures of the locker room. Though unsure at first, another escaped yelp reinforced Brittany's idea as to the source of the noise. A third agonizing sob squelched Brittany's immediate reaction to call out for her best friend, and sent her hurdling through the rows towards Santana's detached whimpers.

"San?" Brittany hesitated when she rounded the corner to Santana's locker and saw the aisle, empty. Exasperated, Brittany spun around, searching; willing Santana to release another stifled cry, but the room was silent. Brittany moved from the enclosure of towering lockers, hoping the open space would reflect Santana's whereabouts and as Brittany crept past the showers, she heard the faint whisper of Santana's shallow breathing.

"Santana!" The desperation in Brittany's voice startled her. She hadn't realized how panicked she'd become; how frantic her desire to help her friend. She grabbed the nearest shower curtain, yanking it out of the way to look inside, but it was empty. Brittany moved down the row of shrouded stalls, tearing back the curtains. She was so panicked that she almost missed the whisper of her name from the second to last stall. Brittany stopped thrashing about, and stared at the closed, off-white plastic sheet that separated her from her best friend. One last deep breath and she ripped back the curtain.

Brittany wasn't prepared for what she found in that shower stall. Santana, curled into a ball, tears leaking onto the floor, and blood spurting from her right forearm, sat in the shower in only her underclothes, the water dripping gently from the faucet. Brittany yanked her t-shirt over her head, and dove towards Santana.

"It's gonna be all right, baby girl, I promise you, it's gonna be okay… hang in there for me, just hold on San," Brittany's voice shook as she wrapped her t-shirt around Santana's blood-stained arm. "Where else are you bleeding, San? Where else did you hurt yourself? Baby, let me fix it, let me help," Brittany cooed when Santana attempted to pull away from her. "Please Santana, I love you so much, please, let me see it San, let me see," and Santana opened her eyes and reached out her punctured arm towards Brittany.

The blood was seeping out over sides of the deep gash Santana had inflicted upon her arm. Brittany wasn't sure how severe the wound was, but when she tightened the t-shirt around the cut, Santana gasped, her eyes wide, all the color draining from her face.

"Britt—"

"I know, San, I know it hurts, but I don't want you bleeding out on me, we've got to stop the bleeding," Brittany cut off Santana's desperate cries by pulling closer. Brittany maneuvered her girlfriend until she sat in her lap, like a child, never wanting to leave this position. The water dripped onto Brittany's legs, and pooled around her ankles, soaking through her white sneakers, but she couldn't feel it. Brittany couldn't feel anything but Santana against her body and steady flow of blood, leaking from the drenched t-shirt and onto her breast where Santana had rested her arm.

"Santana, I don't know what to do… I don't know how to stop the bleeding; I'm going to call someone to come help, okay?"

"No Britt! Brittany you can't tell anyone! They'll cart me off to a psych ward, they'll send me away! Please Britt, please don't call anyone, I'll fix it, I know how to fix the bleeding—" Santana stopped talking, her breath was shallow. The air in her lungs seemed to catch on each word Santana tried to speak.

"I dunno, Santana… This is really bad… there's so much blood, I think you need stitches—"

"No, Brittany!" Santana shrieked, "It's fine, just… just go get the medical tape and the gauze that's in my make-up bag." Brittany didn't move. "_Please _Britt, I'll be okay for a sec, please." Santana pulled herself from Brittany's grasp and climbed out of her lap. Brittany got to her feet and disappeared around the corner of the stall. She was back in a second reaching for Santana's shoulders and lowering them both down to sit on the bench outside the shower. When Brittany peeled back the soaked t-shirt from Santana's arm, the bleeding was subsiding slightly.

Brittany took the t-shirt and ran it under the water from the shower. She carefully wiped the blood from around the wound, and gently patted it dry. Ripping two pieces of tape, she stuck them to Santana's finger while she wrapped the cut up. Then she stuck on the tape.

"See? Look Britt, you did it! I told you it was gonna be okay." But when Santana tried to stand up again, she fell back against Brittany.

"Yea, but San, you've lost a lot of blood. We won't go to the hospital, but I'm driving you home, okay? And I'm staying with you tonight—"

"No! No you can't be at my house tonight, okay?" Santana trembled when Brittany reached out for her, and her shallow breathing hastened. Brittany could feel Santana's heart pounding.

"San, what's wrong? Why can't we spend the night together? Half the time you're begging me to come over at night, and then all of the sudden you don't want me around?"

"No, it's not that I don't want you… tonight's just not… my—my mom won't let you sleep over tonight," Santana hated lying to Brittany, but she couldn't tell her the truth. Brittany would be so angry…

"Santana, that's a lie. You're mom told me last week that I was welcome to spend the night whenever I wanted to. Please baby, just tell me the truth. Tell me why you don't want me to come over—"

"I can't tell you Brittany! I just can't tell you!" A new wave of sorrow broke on Santana's face and she tore herself from Brittany's grasp. Santana wanted nothing more than to spend the night wrapped safely in the arms of her lover, but she couldn't. Not tonight.


	4. Bring Forth The Unexpected

Santana finished cleaning up the blood from the Brittany's bathroom floor, and went back into the bedroom, but Brittany wasn't there. _Good,_ Santana thought,_ she'd kill me if she knew what I was doing._ Santana rummaged through the drawer she'd claimed in Brittany's dresser, and pulled out an old tank top. Instead of pulling it over her head, she stepped into and pulled it up around her severed hip. Coach Sylvester would murder her if she got blood on her Cheerios uniform. And she'd never be able to fool Brittany if there was blood seeping visibly through her outfit. Ever since the day that Brittany found out about the cutting, and about her step father, she'd watched Santana relentlessly for any sign that Santana was partaking in any self-harming activity.

Santana hadn't wanted to tell Brittany anything about her home life. Santana knew the knowledge of what He was doing to her, and what she was doing to herself, would tear Brittany apart. Everything in Brittany's life was sugar coated—_she still believes in Santa Clause for god's sake_—Santana didn't want to take away her girlish charm, the childlike naiveté that shrouded Brittany from at least some of the world's terrors. But that day in the Cheerios locker room, Santana learned that it was too late to protect Brittany, just like Brittany learned that it was too late to protect Santana…

"San, what's wrong? Why can't we spend the night together? Half the time you're begging me to come over at night, and then all of the sudden you don't want me around?"

"No, it's not that I don't want you… tonight's just not… my—my mom won't let you sleep over tonight," Santana hated lying to Brittany, but she couldn't tell her the truth. Brittany would be so angry…

"Santana, that's a lie. You're mom told me last week that I was welcome to spend the night whenever I wanted to. Please baby, just tell me the truth. Tell me why you don't want me to come over—"

"I can't tell you Brittany! I just can't tell you!" A new wave of sorrow broke on Santana's face and she tore herself from Brittany's grasp. Santana wanted nothing more than to spend the night wrapped safely in the arms of her lover, but she couldn't. Not tonight.

"Santana… does it have something to do with your stepfather?" Brittany whispered the words, as if speaking them aloud would make them a reality.

Santana froze, unable to comprehend the words that had just passed her girlfriend's lips. How did she know? How could Brittany possibly know what was going on between Santana and her new stepfather?

"Santana, it's okay. You don't have to hide it from me anymore. I know. I know what he's doing to you. Ever since your mom started seeing him, you've been… different. Everyone thinks I'm stupid, San, but I'm not. Not about you."

"Brittany…. How did you know? How could you possibly have known?" The tears began to drip down Santana's cheeks again. Brittany had known what was happening, but how could she know?

"San, do you remember, it must've been right around when He started living with you and your mom, and you spent the night at my house one weekend? We were in bed, and you were almost asleep. But I rolled over and wrapped my arms around you and tried to hold your hand?"

"There have been a lot of times like that, Brittany. I love cuddling with you, you know that. I love being with you, falling asleep in your arms and waking up beside you… what was different about the time you're talking about?" Santana was confused; she and Brittany spent at least one night together every weekend.

"Babe, when I reached around you, and grabbed your hand, you jumped like ten feet. You started shaking and crying, you looked around at me like I was a monster, and it took five minutes to calm you down and convince you everything was okay. You said you were having a nightmare…. But I knew you weren't. That's when I knew that someone was hurting you. It didn't take a lot of effort to figure out who it was, San,"

"But how? How did you know I was lying? How did you know I didn't have a bad dream…?" Santana wrenched herself from Brittany's grasp and moved to sit on the bench beside her girlfriend. But when Santana made eye contact with Brittany, she felt a chill surge through her body. Santana had never seen Brittany look so rigid, so hardened to the world. Santana was scared as to what Brittany might reveal to answer the question.

"Santana, I love you. And what I'm about to tell you? It doesn't change anything, okay? I'm still me, and I still love you. Please don't be upset with me for not telling you before, okay?"

Santana's pulse was racing, her heart pounding in her chest. What was Brittany about to tell her? Santana thought she knew everything about Brittany, all of her secrets. What secret had been so important, so huge that Brittany had hid it from her all of this time?"

"Santana, there's a reason that everyone thinks I'm stupid. I'm like that for a reason. My therapist says—"

"Wait, what? Your therapist? I didn't know you went to therapy, Brittany… I go to therapy; you know that…why didn't you tell me that you went too?" Santana was taken aback, and a little hurt, that Brittany had withheld this fact from her. Santana was always self-conscious about the fact that she had a therapist, and took medication. She knew Brittany wouldn't judge her, but still, had Santana known, she might have been less embarrassed…

"Yea, San. I'm sorry I didn't tell you… but if I told you I went to therapy, you would've asked why, and you know I can't lie to you…" Santana knew that Brittany was right on that score. If she had known that Brittany went to therapy, Santana wouldn't have let it go until she knew why.

"But you could've just told me why you went to therapy, you know I would do anything to make sure you're okay, I would've supported you…" Santana knew she was being a hypocrite, she hadn't told Brittany about her stepfather, so why did she expect Brittany to confide in her?

"San, I'm telling you now, okay? Do you want me to tell you?" Of course Santana wanted to know.

"Yea Britt, tell me. I'm ready," Santana braced herself for what was coming.

"Okay, so my therapist says that I dumb myself down because I'm stunted at 5 years old—"

"But why would you be stunted at—"

"Santana! I'm trying to tell you!" Brittany was getting irritated, the way she does when Santana was being impatient.

'I'm sorry… I'll stop interrupting, I'm sorry, I'm done, I promise." Santana put her hand across her face to signify her vow to keep her mouth shut.

"Okay. So I only remember it happening once, and I was little, and I'm okay now so don't freak out, okay?" But Santana was already losing it. She grabbed Brittany's hands, silently begging for Brittany's confession to entail something other than what Santana now knew to be true.

"It was my dad. I remember, I was wearing my pink princess nightgown. He came in my room, he thought I was sleeping. Apparently every other time he came in I had been sleeping. He climbed into my bed and pulled up my nightgown. I was so confused, I didn't know what he was doing, but then I felt him touching me, felt him pushing his hand inside me. It hurt so bad, I wanted to scream, but I just squeezed my eyes shut tighter, and pretended to be asleep. So that's how I knew what was happening to you. For the longest time, I would freak out if anyone touched me while I was sleeping. I'd lose it, just like you did that night at my house." Brittany paused, staring into Santana's shocked face. Brittany squeezed her girlfriend's hand, willing a response, but tears had formed in Santana's eyes and were flowing down her cheeks.

"Brittany… My baby… I've met your dad, how can he even be allowed in your life after what he did to you?" Santana was getting angry. Angry with herself for not knowing, angry with Brittany's father for what he did, and angry that the world could have done this to Brittany; Santana's sweet, loving, innocent Brittany. "Brittany, I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry."

"Santana, it's okay. Really, its okay, love, I'm okay. What's not okay is what your step father is doing. I'm coming back to your house with you tonight, and don't try to stop me."

"No, Britt, can we just go to your house instead? I don't want you anywhere near him; I don't want to risk him hurting you." Santana was becoming frantic again; her heavy breathing and quivering voice betrayed the panic bubbling underneath her skin.

"Of course we can, San, let's get out of here. Let's go home, okay?" Brittany's attempt to soothe her girlfriend seemed to work, because Santana stood up and reached out for her hand.

"Let's go home and cuddle. Right now I just really need your sweet lady kisses."


	5. Loaded Promises

"Santana, come _on_! We're going to be so late, what are you doing up there?" Brittany hollered from the kitchen up to her girlfriend. Usually it took the girls ten minutes to get ready, at the most. Throw on the Cheerios uniform, pull back the hair, wash face, brush teeth, a bit of makeup, and done. So when Santana sauntered down the stairs, hips swaying, Cheerios skirt flowing with the movement, beautiful as ever but dressed no differently than any other day, Brittany's suspicion flared.

"Hey baby girl, ready to go? Oh! You made me breakfast? You're the best, I love you so much!" Santana's peppy-girl attitude only furthered Brittany's misgivings. Yes, Santana's attitude around Brittany differed from her typical head bitch approach to life, but after last night's terrors and this morning's sudden emotional shift, Brittany didn't buy the happy-go-lucky act that Santana was throwing at her.

As she reached to grab the peanut-buttered toast with banana sliced on top, Santana looked up at her girlfriend. Sitting, arms folded, doubt seeping from her blue eyes, across from her at the counter, Santana faltered in her act, dropping her smile and betraying the pain behind her mask. The icy, judgmental look Brittany shot at her shook Santana, only for a moment, but Brittany pounced the minute she saw it.

"Let me see, Santana," Brittany's tone was quiet, but the force behind each word felt like a fist. Santana cringed and recoiled back towards the doorway, as if hoping to escape Brittany's reach, but her loaded words knew no boundaries. Brittany leapt across the counter and grabbed Santana's wrist. Her grip was gentle but firm, and Santana was unable to wriggle free. Defeated, Santana fell limp against Brittany's legs, which now dangled from the countertop where she sat.

"Santana, baby, please let me see them, please," Brittany cooed in her ear as Santana's body trembled beneath Brittany's arms. Santana peered up at Brittany, her dark eyes brimming with tears, and shook her head. Brittany reacted immediately, taking Santana's head in her hands and pleading, "Santana, I need to see them. I need to be sure you're okay."

Santana pushed forward, burrowing into Brittany's lap and letting her tears fall. Sobs racked her body as she dropped her act completely, and Brittany slid down from the countertop to take Santana fully in her arms.

"I'm sorry Britt, I'm so sorry I love you please don't be mad…" the rest of Santana's mumbling was incoherent because Brittany pulled her, if possible, even closer to her body, as if using herself as a shield to shut out the pain Santana felt. Brittany half carried, half dragged Santana to the kitchen couch, positioning herself beneath Santana's limp form. Reaching below Santana's Cheerios skirt, Brittany gently lifted the fabric so as not to scrape against Santana's newly self-inflicted wounds. She pulled the skirt down to reveal an old, magenta tank top, which was doing a terrible job of holding back the rubicund flow from Santana's fresh cuts. Brittany repressed a sigh as she peeled back the tank top to reveal three deep gashes in Santana's side.

"Baby, I'll be right back, I'm just going to grab some bandages from the bathroom, okay? Don't move baby girl, I'll be right back," Brittany cooed as she extricated herself from beneath her semi-conscious girlfriend. She returned moments later, a tube of creamy medication, a box of gauze pads and a roll of medical tape clutched in her hand. "Santana, tell me why you did this," she whispered as she bent down to remedy her girlfriend's wounds.

"I'm sorry Brittany, I'm sorry, I just couldn't handle it today, I just couldn't," Santana mumbled a few more apologetic sentences before burying her face in the couch cushions. Santana couldn't tell Brittany the real reason she'd taken the razor blade to her skin. She couldn't reveal that tonight, when she went home she had been promised a night of terror she was unlikely to be able to handle. She'd received the text last night, after Brittany had fallen asleep. A message from her step father. One sentence, so packed with hatred and anger and vengeance, that only translated to her as pain and fear and angst:

"When you come home tomorrow night, you'll be so sorry you ever tried to hide from me."


	6. A Friend Like You

This Too Shall Pass: Chapter 6

Brittany allowed Santana to trail off into half-conscious murmuring. When Santana felt threatened or emotionally out of control, she floated away into her own world, a state of only partial consciousness. Santana's mental shutdowns began as a defense mechanism, allowing her to escape from the present whenever the situation became too much to handle. Brittany did her best to help Santana through these moments without partaking in harmful behaviors, but Brittany understood that sometimes, there seems to be no other option. She knew exactly what Santana felt, having been there many times herself and together, they helped each other through each day. Brittany cared more about Santana that she did for herself, and Santana did everything she could to protect Brittany from the world as well. Together, they managed to avoid major breakdowns and emotional danger zones most of the time.

As Brittany cleaned up Santana's recent self-inflicted wounds, Santana floated in and out of the real world. The drug-like effect of her mental defense methods made participating in real life quite difficult. Brittany allowed her to escape for a while, as she considered what to do today. Grabbing her phone out of her backpack, she dialed Mr. Shue's cell number, hoping he would be able to help her, and crossing her fingers that Santana would stay in her subconscious world, unaware of Brittany's conversation with their teacher.

_Brrrrring Brrriiinggggggg…Brrrrring Brrriiinggggggg…"Hello? Brittany? What's wrong? Where are you and Santana?" _Mr. Schuester's voice flooded Britt's ear, and Brittany knew he was willing to do anything he could to make sure his glee kids were safe and happy.

"Mr. Schue? Hi, yea Santana and I are at my house, we were about to leave but… Mr. Schue, Santana's in a really bad place this morning, and I'm not sure what to do anymore. I can't figure out what is setting her off today…." a partial lie, but Brittany didn't know how to go about informing Mr. Schue about Santana's home life. In fact, Brittany wasn't even sure if Santana's emotional shut down had anything to do with real life, or just memories and nightmares of the past.

"Is she okay? Are you okay? Brittany we've talked about this before, I'm so glad you know you can trust and confide in me, but i think i could be much more useful to you and Santana if i actually knew what was going on." Mr. Schuester, of course, made this valid point each time Brittany dialed is number, but she had promised Santana that she wouldn't betray her secrets to anyone. But Brittany hadn't made any promises about her own secrets, and thus had told Mr. Schue her whole story hoping he would see similar signs of turmoil in Santana and connect the dots. But Santana's artistic facade fooled almost everybody, well, everybody but Brittany.

"She will be okay, she's just having a rough morning. I wanted to tell you so you didn't worry about us. We are definitely going to be a little late today…" Brittany and Santana usually made it to school well before first period, neither of them felt like spending much time at home ever, but someday's getting out of the house proved much more difficult than anticipated. Today being on of those days, Brittany called up to warn Mr. Schue, to hopefully cushion an repercussions Principle Figgins or Coach Sylvester had planned for the two girls. Mr. Schuester wasn't completely oblivious, but very few people expect the situations the two girls lived in as a reality.

"I know Mr. Schue but… but I've told you what I know, I don't know what's going on this morning," again, a semi-lie. " I just wanted to tell you what was a going on, so you weren't worried if we are a little late. We're trying to leave now." Brittany wrapped up the conversation quickly, again angry with herself for involving a third party. Santana would be furious if she knew, and Brittany didn't want to set her off anymore this morning. It was clear that something was lurking within Santana, dragging her down and away from the real world, but Brittany didn't know if it was a haunting from the past, or something yet to come.

Brittany returned to Santana, who's curled form remained limp on the couch, and lifted her into her arms and against her chest.

"I like the way you're not afraid. You've got the world planned in your mind. People say you can not do it, but they don't know a friend like you." Brittany sang softly to Santana, hoping to pull her from the hiding place inside her mind. Her soothing, gentle voice in Santana's roused Santana, and opening her eyes, she smiled at Brittany.

"I love when you sing our song Britt, I love you so much." Santana returned to her self as soon as Brittany began to soothe her, and Brittany knew it would be okay. Bending her head, she took Santana's bottom lip between her own, and gently tugged, urging Santana to sit up straight and kiss her back. Santana obliged immediately, wincing slightly as her Cheerios uniform pulled against Brittany's new bandaging around Santana's fresh cuts. But quickly she was resting against Brittany's body, her knees around one of Brittany's thighs, and her lips locked against Brittany's. They rocked together on the couch, soothing each other by just being together. Brittany felt Santana's heart rate increase, and Santana could feel the wetness of Brittany's panties against her leg. Santana leaned in agains't Brittany's center, hoping to drive thoughts of glee club, school and her mental instability from her girlfriend's mind, but Brittany was quick to pull back.

"San, baby, we've got to go to school today!" Santana pouted against Brittany's lips, and pleaded with her eyes, but Brittany insisted they try and make it to school.

"After glee club, okay? This afternoon we can come straight back here, and i'll make love to you all night long." Brittany giggled into Santana's neck, blowing hot air across her collar bone and moving her mouth up to her ear.

Santana sat up and looked down at Brittany, her eyes betraying the longing to touch, and be touched by Brittany.

"I'm holding you to that, Britt. that better be a promise." Santana smiled and narrowed her eyes at her lover.

Brittany smiled. "Don't even think for a second that it's not, love."


	7. Typical Comforts

As always, the school day moved at the speed of molasses. Each second crept by, imprisoning teachers and students alike. Brittany sat in her last period math class, staring at the board, trying to take in what the teacher was saying. The other students called Brittany's class 'stupid math', but whenever Santana heard anyone refer to Brittany or her classes in a derogatory fashion, Santana cut them to bits with her vicious, vicious words. Thinking of her girlfriend made Brittany smile, despite the number-shaped cloud of confusion hovering around her head. Noah Puckerman, who sat on Brittany's left, leaned over and whispered, "Please tell me that adorable smirk is because you understand these damn systems of equations…" Brittany just ignored him and continued thinking about Santana. "Or better yet," Puck continued, "you're thinking about all the things you and Santana could do with me there."

That pulled Brittany out of her reverie. She glared at Puck and then looked back down at her notes. She'd written down the problem, but didn't have any idea how to solve it. She ignored Puck and leaned over to her right, trying to get a look at stoner Brett's paper. But his notes contained even less information than Brittany's, so she went back to daydreaming about Santana…

Santana kept checking her phone, hoping to receive a text from Brittany. But she knew that Brittany never texted Santana during last period. Oddly, this made Santana smile. She knew the lack of communication was because Brittany was trying so hard to understand what was being taught in the day's lecture. Kurt looked up from his Physics worksheet and caught Santana on her phone, again.

"Santana, Rachel and I have decided that we absolutely refuse to work in a group with you ever again if you don't start actually working." Rachel continued to stare at the problem before her, but nodded in agreement.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Fine, Gayberry, but you know you'd be screwed without me here to check all your stupid math mistakes."

Rachel looked up and glared at Santana, but Kurt leaned over to Rachel and whispered, "Shh, don't get all pissed off, you know it's true…" Santana smirked and began work on the problems at hand.

The last period bell finally tolled, and Brittany threw her notebook into her backpack and raced towards the choir room. Santana always beat her there, but Brittany tried to minimize the amount of time they had to spend apart by running through the halls to get to her. As she barreled into the door, Santana stood up from her seat and reached out for her girlfriend. Brittany almost knocked Mr. Schuester over as he came out from his office.

"Woah Brittany, take it easy!" He scolded, but his smile betrayed his happiness to see the girls here, together, and safe. Brittany launched herself at Santana, and smothered her with kisses. Puck, who always followed close behind Brittany, stared at the couple as they continued their public display. Artie rolled in behind Puck, saw him staring, and rammed him with his wheelchair.

"Watch it, cripples!" But he laughed as he gently whacked Artie on the back of the head.

"Your obvious gaping is so undeniably frat boyish, that it offends me almost as much as I'm sure it offends them." Artie retorted. "But, it certainly is PDA at his finest…" He added, and the boys high-fived as they crossed the room to their seats. This exchange occurred almost every day, and Puck smiled at the comfortable regularity. He would never admit it outside this room, but Puck's best friends were the kids with whom he shared this after school activity.

The rest of the glee kids were already sitting in their chairs. Kurt, Mercedes, Rachel and Blaine quietly argued over what they each hoped would be this week's glee assignments. Quinn looked up from her book as she saw Puck and Artie enter, rolled her eyes at them, and continued to devour the words on the page before her. Finn sat quietly beside Quinn, glancing back and forth between Santana and Brittany, Rachel, and then back to Quinn.

"Yo, bro, you gotta stop staring at every girl in this room, and pick one." Puck said loudly to Finn as he took a seat next to his best friend. Artie nodded in agreement, as he took his place in the front row. Quinn rolled her eyes again, but continued to stare her book.

"Okay guys—" Mr. Schue began

"And girls," Rachel rudely interrupted. Santana glared at Rachel for being her obnoxious self, but couldn't completely disguise her love for this group of people, and all their individual quirks.

"And girls, yes Rachel," Mr. Schuester continued, unfazed by Rachel's display. "Today's assignment…"


	8. Playing Games

"God, I literally thought I was going to die right there in Glee club today. Mr. Schue would NOT stop talking! I was like, okay enough, time to go, we get it—"

"Santana, don't make fun of Glee club, I love Glee and so do you," Brittany interrupted her girlfriend's complaints.

"Britt Britt, you know I love Glee, but I love you way more. And, in case you don't remember, you made a promise this morning…" Santana's eyes burned into Brittany from the passenger seat of the car.

"Yes Santana, I do remember making that promise, and I've been thinking about it all day too…" Brittany trailed off, leaving Santana to wonder just what her girlfriend was thinking. Santana let go of Brittany's hand and reached over the center console, placing her hand just above Brittany's knee. Brittany's sharp breath told Santana all she needed to know. She massaged her way up Brittany's thigh, each catch in her girlfriend's breath spurring her onward.

"Santana, I'm driving! Didn't anyone ever tell you not to disturb the driver!?" Brittany's voice was airy, but stern.

"Oh, so I'm disturbing you, am I?" Santana teased. "Baby, you have no idea just how much I want to… disturb you." Santana chuckled. Her throaty, sensual laugh always undid Brittany, and this time was no exception. Santana knew how to play this game. She picked up her hand and brought it back to rest on the center console, not touching Brittany this time.

"Hey, no fair! I spent all day thinking about this afternoon and how I wanted it to play out, because I made the promise to that means I get to be in charge!" Brittany whined. Santana laughed again.

"Ahhh, so I was right! You were thinking about all the things YOU want to do to ME, huh? Well this is a dilemma then, because I was thinking about all the things I want to do to YOU," Brittany pouted as she realized the last five minutes had all been Santana's plot find out what Brittany thought about all day. But she couldn't stay cranky much longer, for Santana's, this time genuine, laugh forced Brittany's pout into a smile, and soon both girls were giggling together, their hands grasped once again.


	9. This Love is Ever Changing

The girls burst through the front door, took a sharp right and immediately dropped all that morning's angst along with their backpacks at the bottom of the stairs. Brittany's mom was in the playroom, distracted by one of the crying kids, but before the girls could scurry upstairs to be alone, another toddler wandered into the front room.

"B! B is home from school and she bwought Tana!" Carter yelled over the crying. The girls looked at each other, Brittany's eyes asking Santana what she wanted to do; stay and play or go upstairs and play. But Santana loved Carter and all the other kids, so she smiled at Brittany and bent down to catch Carter as he flung himself into her arms.

"Hey bud!" Santana squeezed carter as he threw his arms around her neck. Little footsteps pitter pattered against the kitchen tiles as Parker careened around the corner and into the front room, slipping when he reached the wooden floor. Parker took on the two year old I-can't-decide-if-I'm-going-to-cry-or-not face, but before he could let out a wail Carter was kneeling next to him, asking if he was okay and smiling so big that Parker decided a laugh was more acceptable.

Brittany moved towards Parker and grabbed him around the waist, scooping him up into a hug. "B! B! B!" Parker sang, "B and Tana are here to play!" Carter ambled back over to where Santana knelt and plopped down on her lap, leaning his back against her front, that wide smile plastered to his face.

"I'm thwee now," he stated with pride, explaining his nurturing behavior towards Parker.

"Yes, I heard you just had a birthday, huh?" Carter nodded at Santana. "And you know what? I think that means I have to give you a present, right?" Carter gave a fervent nod, turning himself around to look at Santana. "Let's see, what I shall give you…" Santana pretended to look around, as if to find a present for Carter. "How about… THIS!" She grabbed carter around the waist and tickled his belly. Carter screeched and laughed and attempted to struggle out of Santana's grasp. Brittany sat with Parker in her lap, the two of them amused by the scene before them.

Carter broke free and ran to hide behind Brittany, still laughing and taunting Santana with a chorus of "You can't catch me! You can't catch me!"

Santana giggled from where she lay on the floor and said, "No, I don't think I can, I'm so tired now!" she looked up at Brittany, and the girls smiled at each other. Santana loved spending time at Brittany's house when the kids were around. Brittany's mother ran a small daycare center from their two-story home. The small neighborhood had a park just down the street from the house, and Santana and Brittany often took the older kids there in the afternoons.

Brittany's mom walked in, holding a teary Thomas, and Harley wandered in behind them. Upon seeing Santana, Harley, the ever exuberant 5 year old, sprang towards hers and snuggled up into the crook of Santana's body. Harley and Parker were siblings; their round faces, brown eyes and blond hair betraying this to the world. Santana and Brittany often babysat the two of them even when Dani, Brittany's mom, wasn't working. Whenever they took the kids out, each kid had a 'buddy', and the rule was to stick with your buddy so as not to get lost. Santana and Harley were always buddies, as were Parker and Brittany.

"Hey girls, Harley was just asking if you'd be coming home today." Dani sat down on the couch in the front room, pulling Thomas, Brittany's foster brother, onto her lap. Thomas had fetal alcohol syndrome. Although he was 4 years old, physically, Thomas had a mental capacity closer to a two-year-old. The Pierce family wanted to adopt him, as he'd been with them for almost a year now. Like her mother, Brittany had a knack for taking care of kids. Watching Brittany with them made Santana melt.

"Yes please! Can we pleeeeeeassseeeeeee go to the park?" Harley piped up. She was practically underneath Santana in her attempt to get as close as possible. Brittany looked at her girlfriend, as if to ask whether she was willing to post-pone their morning promise, but Santana beat her to it.

"Yea, we can go to the park, but only if we get to swing on the swings!" Santana exclaimed, and then looked to her girlfriend. Brittany's triumphant smile was so full of love. Santana just wanted to kiss her. But she couldn't here, not in front of the kids, and especially not in front of Brittany's Mom. So instead Santana stood up, Picking Harley up with her, and plopped the little girl down on her feet. "Everyone who's attending today's field trip to the park, find your shoes!" Santana announced! All the kids, except for Thomas, rushed back into the playroom to gather their outdoor gear.

"Thomas, do you want to go to the park too?" Dani asked the little boy on her lap. Thomas nodded, so Dani went back to the playroom to help him with his own shoes, leaving the girls alone.

Santana looked back at Brittany sensing the passion emanating from those ice blue eyes. "I love you so much," Brittany whispered, as Santana moved slowly towards her. Brittany reached out for her, and Santana let herself fall into her lover's arms as their lips finally met.


	10. Anticipation

The crisp autumn wind swept through and around their parade as Santana, Brittany and the four kids meandered towards the park. Thomas insisted on walking, and stopped every few steps to look at the leaves that crunched beneath his shoes. Carter, on the other hand, was impatient and wanted to get to the park, so Brittany stayed behind with Thomas and Parker, leaving Santana, Harley and Carter to venture forward. Once there, the kids raced for the swing set. Harley positioned herself on one swing, while Carter clambered onto the one next to it. Santana sat down next to them and pushed herself off the ground. Harley followed, and soon Carter too got the hang of the knee bending motion involved with pumping oneself higher and higher. By the time the rest of the gang arrived, the three acrobats were soaring above the heads of their late companions. Parker and Thomas were more interested in the jungle gym, and soon the other two abandoned the swings to join them, leaving Santana and Brittany to themselves. They wandered over to a bench with a prime view of the jungle gym, and their charges.

"I'm sorry we're not upstairs making good on my morning promise," Brittany whispered, taking Santana's ear lobe between her teeth after her apology. Santana squirmed and crossed her legs.

"It's okay, baby, I'm just as content to spend time with you and the kids. And after all, there was no time limit on that promise…" Santana soft voice graced her lips in such a way that Brittany could almost feel their smoothness. Santana leaned down to rest her elbow on her crossed legs and her cheek in her palm. She looked sideways at Brittany and smiled a mysterious smile.

"But when we do get back, I intend to follow through, fully." Brittany whispered as she leaned down and stole a kiss, her eyes never leaving Santana's. "After all, we have all night." Brittany finished.

Santana froze. In an attempt to hide her fear, she smiled, but Brittany had seen the momentary panic cross her face.

"San, what's wrong?" Brittany questioned, gently. Santana turned to face away from Brittany and looked to where the kids were playing. She sighed, well aware that she wouldn't be able to hide this from Britt. Ever since last year in the locker room when Santana confirmed what Brittany had already determined, and revealed her own secret as well, Brittany watched Santana for signs of forthcoming abuse in hopes to prevent it. But Brittany knew she couldn't save Santana every time, and that destroyed her. "Santana, please tell me what's going on."

Santana didn't want to tell Brittany. She didn't want Brittany lying in bed tonight, thinking about what was happening. She didn't know if Brittany would be able to handle that, and she didn't feel like putting her to the test. "Britt, I can't stay the night tonight."

"But… why? And don't lie to me, don't make up some story, tell me the truth. I can handle it." Santana hesitated. "Please?" Brittany finished.

"Okay, but Britt, don't get angry or upset, okay? I don't know if I'll be okay if you're not okay." Santana blinked back tears, determined not to let them spill over. Brittany saw this and took Santana's hand. "Last night after you fell asleep, I got a text from Him." Brittany's shallow breathing picked up speed, and she tightened her grip on Santana's hand.

"What did it say, San?" Santana could hear Brittany's terror.

"It said, 'When you come home tomorrow night, you'll be sorry you tried to hide from me'. Don't worry Britt; I can handle this, okay? But I have to go home tonight, because if I don't it'll just be worse later. You know that…" Santana trailed off when she saw Brittany's tears falling. "I'll be okay, baby, don't cry." Santana reached up a wiped away the salty water that glistened on Brittany's cheek. "Don't cry baby, please don't cry." Brittany sniffled, but reached up and wiped away the tears. Her face reflected deep hatred, but her eyes betrayed her sadness. Santana hated to see Brittany this way, and she hated herself even more for bringing this upon her girlfriend. She looked away; she didn't want Brittany to see this self-loathing. But Brittany reached for Santana, turning her forward so she could look into her eyes.

"Can I stay with you at your house tonight?" Santana jerked out of Brittany's grasp.

"No way, Britt. I will not let him anywhere near you. Not now, not ever, so don't even try." Santana was adamant in her refusal to let Brittany come spend the night.

"Santana, I know I can't save you from everything, and I know how strong you are. I know you won't stay with me tonight, and you won't let me stay with you. But I also know that when it's over, you're going to need some help, and I want to be able to help my girlfriend when she needs it most. So when it's over, text me and I'll come pick you up and we can come back here. I'll take care of you baby. If I can't stop it from happening, then I'm going to be sure I am there to help later." Tears were running down Brittany's face again, but her whole demeanor had changed. She didn't seem angry or sad anymore, and Santana knew that this was determination. Brittany was determined to fix any suffering that her lover felt. Santana leaned forward and kissed Brittany, sweetly, passionately. She could taste the lip smackers that Brittany always wore, and smell the faint scent of her perfume. Nothing felt as right to Santana as that moment, with their lips together, tears falling, and hands clasped.


	11. Hopeless

**Chapter 11: Hopeless**

Santana eased her front door open and tip-toed over the threshold, pulling the door shut behind her. Terror clouded her mind as she listened. Each beat of her pulse sounded like footsteps. Reminding herself to breath, she slid off her shoes, and carefully picked them up. The sudden thud of footfall echoed in the hallway. Santana's vision blurred as she fell back against the door. She steadied herself and slowly turned towards the door as it swung open. Santana took a deep breath as her step-father appeared in the doorway.

"Well, what have we here?" he snarled. He stood before her, over six feet tall and built like a tank. Santana always found it ironic that he, in fact, drove tanks for years, as a soldier. His sharp stance and looming figure reflected his military status, and his lips curled up into a sneer. His dark eyes burned into Santana. She stood frozen beneath him.

"Finally decided to come home, did we? That wasn't very nice, leaving me all by myself, was it?" He moved close to her, so close Santana could smell the scotch on his breath. She heard it before she felt it, his hand swooping down and making contact with her cheek. She cried out, but didn't dare raise her hand to her face. _Don't you ever, ever raise your hand to me;_ he'd just hit Santana harder. She'd learned that by now.

His terrible smirk danced as he laughed at her. Santana wanted nothing more than to run away, but she knew better. He moved forward, pressing himself against her. She could feel his breath as he whispered.

"You worthless slut. Who do you think you are? This," he grabbed at her breast, "is all you're worth. You hear me? You're lucky I chose you. Lucky I'm giving you a purpose." Santana was used to these words, but after hearing them so many times, she had trouble ignoring them. "You are mine," He finished, the alcoholic stench on his warm breath against her face. Santana did her best not to throw up.

He reached forward, capturing her around the middle and pulling her towards him. She leaned back as far as she could and squeezed her eyes shut, but he forced her against him. She lost her footing as he pulled her forward. She didn't even bother trying to regain her balance as he dragged her into the hallway and towards the stairs.

Forcing Santana upwards, he marched behind her all the way to her bedroom, never releasing her from his grip. Throwing her down onto the floor, she lay there, not speaking, not crying, and trying not to feel his hands on her. When he reached his hand under her skirt, she didn't bother trying to stop him. As he forced his hand inside her, she closed her eyes and tried to be somewhere else. The physical invasion shocked Santana, and she cried out, but he just laughed. "We both know how much you want this," he whispered as he wrenched his hand from inside her. The sudden absence sent a spasm through body, and she gave into the tears. She heard the zipper on his pants and felt him maneuver above her. A much too familiar pain racked her body as he pushed himself inside, resting his weight on top of her.

Santana couldn't breathe. She cried out every time he lifted himself up, just to come slamming back down into her. Her tears ran down her face and gathered together on the floor in front of her. She felt his hand crawl up her body and clench around her neck, squeezing much too tightly. She gasped for a breath that never came as she tumbled into the dark bliss of unconsciousness.


	12. Resignation

**Chapter 12: Resignation**

Santana was startled out of unconsciousness by a harsh slap on her thigh. Catapulting herself off the bed where she had ended up, she glared at the man sitting there. Realizing she was naked, she reached up her arms to cover herself. She felt the heat creep into her cheeks as the ever-present shame set in. Turning away from him, she moved towards her dresser. Each step sent a familiar ache through her body. She stumbled and fell against her desk.

"What do you think you're doing?" He whispered as Santana righted herself.

"Getting clothes," Santana shot back with as much hatred as she could muster in her state of embarrassment and pain. She pulled open the top drawer and rummaged around for some sweat pants and a t-shirt.

"Look at me," He grumbled. Santana ignored him and pulled open a second drawer. She heard him stand up and move towards her, but she defied him.

"Look at me!" His hand came slamming down on the dresser, next to her. She felt him grind against her. Turning to face him, she looked him straight in the eye, something she rarely did.

"We're done when I say we're done," He whispered, grabbing Santana around the middle and dragging her back to the bed. A sudden defiance swept over Santana, and she wrenched her body from his clutch. She backed away from him, her arms crossed over herself. She attempted to hide her shame, but she let disgust show on her face. Santana knew she would pay for her insolence later, but she didn't care.

"You stupid bitch, come over here, now!" He jabbed an angry finger at the bed.

"Mom will be home soon," Santana muttered in way of a reply. She let herself have a moment of triumph as he stood there, fuming. But suddenly his smirk reappeared.

"Oh no, I forgot to tell you. Your mother's plane is delayed, she won't be in until late." His smirk spread into a malicious grin as he chuckled, amused by his own wit. Santana faltered. Her mother would _not_ be coming in the front door, like she had planned. The terror slowly began to replace her confidence as he moved towards her, still laughing. He reached out and smacked her, hard. She cried out and backed from his angry fists.

"Get on the bed, now," He stabbed at each word, all his cheer replaced by angry determination. Santana relented, sagging beneath his fury. She staggered back to the bed and collapsed upon it, squeezing her eyes shut. She felt him climb on top of her. She readied herself for what was coming. As he forced himself back inside of her, she screamed, raw from the previous assault. She reached up and covered her face with her arms as he used her, trying to block out what was happening. Her mind moved to Brittany, Santana's only refuge at this point.

As she dissociated, the pain grew fainter and her thoughts of Brittany became clearer. Santana no longer felt His rough cheek against her skin, but Brittany's smooth and soft lips instead. Immersing herself in those wonderful thoughts, Santana drifted away from her bedroom...

Brittany struggled to sit still. She had tried to do her homework, but that was hard enough on a good day. She couldn't focus her thoughts on anything other than what she knew was happening to Santana. Brittany picked up her math book and threw it at the wall. It crashed down next to Lord Tubbington, sending him waddling away. He glared at Brittany.

"Fine, be mad at me!" She screamed at Lord Tubbington, and started crying. She lay down and pressed her cheek against the carpet and waited for Santana to call. Brittany needed to know Santana was okay.


	13. Aftermath

**Chapter 13: Aftermath**

Brittany lay next to her girlfriend, studying Santana as she slept. The purplish bruises that formed all over Santana's body made Brittany want to scream. She hated Santana's step-father, and she hated what he did to her. But most of all Brittany hated how helpless she was to protect the person she loved. Brittany moved closer to Santana, wrapping herself around her girlfriend. Brittany knew that touching Santana while she slept was risky, but she didn't care. Brittany loved Santana and she wanted to Santana to know it. The sleeping girl stirred and rolled over in her sleep. Brittany reached down and stroked Santana's hair. He was never gentle with Santana, and so the loving touch that Brittany applied wasn't likely to be taken as a threat.

"San, baby, wake up," Brittany urged Santana. When Santana had phoned earlier that evening, Brittany grabbed her keys and rushed over to Santana's house.

_Santana was sitting on the front steps, barefoot and without a jacket. She stared at Brittany as she pulled into the driveway, but didn't seem to register Brittany's presence. Britt stepped out of the car and navigated her way over to her girlfriend, but Santana wasn't really there. Brittany bent down and put her hand on Santana's shoulder, hoping to bring her back to the present, but Santana didn't move. Grasping her girlfriend around the waist, Brittany tugged Santana towards her, but Santana screamed and pulled away. Santana stared at Brittany as if she was looking at someone else. The terror on her face made Brittany so angry. _

"_Santana, it's me, it's Britt-Britt. You're safe now, I've got you." But Santana backed away._

"_No, no please, no," Santana mumbled as she jumped to her feet and backed towards the still running pick-up truck that Brittany drove. Brittany stood to follow Santana, but Santana screamed again, turned and bolted for the truck. But as Santana approached the waiting vehicle, she slowed, as if considering something. Slowly she turned to face the other girl._

_ "Britt?" Santana whimpered over the engine. _

_ "Yes baby, it's me. It's me, I'm right here." Brittany ran over to Santana. Unsteady on her feet, Santana swayed back and forth before Brittany. _

_ "Are you ready to go, San? Do you need anything?" Brittany gently reached towards Santana, offering her support. _

_ "N-No, I'm..." Santana trailed off._

_ "You're what baby? What is it?" Brittany couldn't keep the panic from her voice. _

_ "I'm sorry," Santana finished, fresh tears glistened against her cheeks. "I'm so sorry."_

_ Brittany grasped Santana's shoulders and looked into her girlfriend's eyes._

_ "Santana, don't you ever, ever apologize to me for what he does to you. You are my baby; you have nothing to be sorry about. I'm the one who is sorry, Santana. Sorry I couldn't prevent this. Silent tears rolled down Brittany's face now. "I love you. I just love you so much." Brittany pulled Santana to her, enveloping the smaller girl with her arms. _

_ "I love you too" Santana whispered._

As Brittany gently tried to coax Santana out of her slumber, she considered what needed taking care of. The dried blood on Santana's forehead didn't concern Brittany so much as the fresh blood she'd found on Santana's sweat pants.

"Santana, you're bleeding, let's go take a shower together. Come on baby." Santana stirred and opened her eyes. A meek smile touched her lips when Santana saw her girlfriend leaning over her. This was the way Santana enjoyed waking up; under the loving gaze of her favorite girl. Santana grimaced as she pulled herself into a sitting position. The familiar ache that gripped her body reminded her of the events of the early evening. Santana sank back down into the bed, and covered her face with her hands.

"No, no, no, no, it's okay San, it's okay, I'm right here." Brittany gathered Santana close to her. Santana's stiff form relaxed under Brittany's touch.

"I want to shower with you," Santana whispered to Brittany. Sometimes after nights like these, Santana resisted intimacy, and Brittany was glad this wasn't one of those nights. Leaning down, Brittany kissed Santana, softly.

"I love you, Santana," Brittany replied.

"I love you too, Britt," Santana smiled.

Brittany took this opportunity to spring out of bed, and run to into the bathroom. She peaked out around the door, beckoning Santana to join her. The Latina eased herself from under the covers and carefully paced towards the bathroom. Brittany moved to meet her, placing her hands on Santana's waist. Their lips met as Brittany pulled Santana closer, and all the turmoil from the evening washed away. Brittany tugged at Santana's shirt, until she lifted her arms and Brittany carefully pulled it up and off.

"Can I touch you?" Brittany asked, always careful not to trigger Santana.

"Please touch me, Britt," Santana whispered and Brittany slid her hands up Santana's back and over her shoulders. Brittany brought her hands to rest on Santana's exposed breasts, as Santana reached up to kiss her lover. The girls stood like that for a long time, unwilling to break the connection. Santana moved her hands along Brittany's shoulders and down her arms, sneaking her hands up under Brittany's shirt to caress her waist. Brittany sighed into their kiss, sending tingles down Santana's spine. This was why Santana lived; for the moments of joy and excitement nurtured by their relationship.


	14. I Just Love You

The hot water cascaded over Santana as Brittany stood in front of her. The warmth soothed Santana's aching body. Tilting her head to let the water flow across her chest, she smiled at Brittany.

"Are you just going to stare at me all night? Or are you going to come under here with me so I can kiss you?" Brittany was so grateful to see Santana in a playful mood. So often, she got caught up in just looking at Santana; the gentle curves of the smaller girl's body, the way Santana's back arched while she enjoyed the shower. Brittany soaked it all in, loving these times when they were alone together. Brittany reached for the washcloth and picked up the bottle of scented soap. Rain Kissed Leaves, it was called, and that's what Santana always smelled like. Brittany had a small bottle of the scented lotion that she kept tucked away. Sometimes she would pull it out just to smell it; just to think about Santana.

Opening the bottle, she poured some soap on the wet cloth and pulled Santana towards her. She rubbed Santana's shoulders with the cloth, gently massaging her skin.

"Mmmmm, that feels so good Britt-Britt," Santana murmured. Closing her eyes, she let the water warm her while Brittany carefully rubbed the cloth over her body. Santana let Brittany wash her, knowing that Brittany felt more in control of their situation by being able to help Santana this way. She knew it made Brittany feel better, almost as if she could wash away the events of the evening. Dropping the cloth, Brittany opened the bottle again and poured the gel into her hands. She rubbed her hands across Santana's shoulders and down her back.

"Turn around," Brittany nudged Santana with her hips. Santana turned slowly, bringing her hands up to catch the water streaming from the faucet. Brittany massaged the soap into Santana's shoulders. The watery suds dripped down Santana's back and onto Brittany's toes as Brittany nuzzled against her girlfriend. Bringing her hands around Santana's front, she rubbed her hands across her stomach, working her touch up to Santana's breasts. Santana lolled her head backwards, resting her wet hair against Brittany's shoulder. Brittany let her hands sneak back down Santana's stomach onto her hips. She traced her fingers across Santana's waistline, waiting to see how her girlfriend would react. When Santana didn't say anything, Brittany let her touch travel downward further, running her fingers between Santana's thighs. Brittany felt Santana stiffen slightly, and she quickly pulled her hands back to Santana's hips. Santana spun around, sloshing water everywhere.

"I want to touch you Britt," Santana said with curious ferocity. Santana took the soap from the edge of the tub and squeezed some into her palm. Slowly she moved her hands in circles across Brittany's back, hugging the taller girl to her as she did. Brittany reached up between their bodies and took Santana's breasts in her hands. Santana rolled her head backwards, soaking her face in the torrent of water. She stared at Brittany through the hair that hung wet around her face.

"I just love you, Santana," Brittany's voice was smooth as the running water.

"I just love you, Brittany," Santana whispered. Grasping Brittany's waist, Santana urged her to turn around. Santana snuck her hands down over Brittany's hips and rested them lightly on her sex. Working her fingers back and forth, she moved her touch between Brittany's legs. To Santana's satisfaction, she heard her girlfriend whimper quietly. Santana took her cue and gently inserted two fingers into Brittany. Brittany tensed her hips and rolled her head back against Santana, rocking to match the motion of Santana's hand. Turning her head, Brittany moved her lips across Santana's cheek. As Santana quickened the pace of her touch, Brittany's lips tensed against Santana's face.

Brittany reveled under Santana's touch. She nipped at Santana's jawline, leaving little love marks on Santana's skin. Each sharp inhale from Santana spurred Brittany higher. Finally, Brittany leaned back against her girlfriend, giving in to her orgasm as it tore through her. She couldn't help the moan that slipped between her lips as she finished, and it made Santana smile to hear it. Brittany collapsed against Santana, giving herself to the sensation that racked her body. Santana slowed her touch and removed her hand, bringing it to rest on Brittany's abdomen. She turned her head and nuzzled her face in Brittany's wet hair, breathing in the smell of her girlfriend. The two girls stood beneath the flowing water for a time, relishing in the feel of their bodies pressed together. Brittany turned to face Santana, and Santana turned up her face to kiss Brittany. As their lips touched, Brittany whispered into the kiss.

"I love you Santana Lopez. You are my life."


	15. Revelations

The girls lay in bed, arms and legs intertwined beneath the soft cotton sheets. Brittany draped her arm across Santana's waist, gently holding the smaller girl against her body. The winter wind howled outside the window as the falling snow coated the glass. Santana reached out her hand and placed it against the pane, leaving a perfect hand print on the foggy surface. She smiled as Brittany reached out and left another print, slightly overlapping Santana's.

"Look San, we're holding hands," Brittany giggled into her girlfriend's ear. Santana's dark curls tickled Brittany's cheek as she whispered. Santana squirmed under Brittany's arm, reaching out to grasp her hand.

"Now we're really holding hands, baby," Santana smiled, and turned her face towards her lover. Brittany's blue eyes bore into Santana's brown ones, and Brittany could feel the heat pooling in her stomach. She pulled Santana closer to her, and buried her face in her girlfriend's neck. Brittany breathed in Santana's scent, content just to have her lover in her arms.

"Brittany, can I ask you something?" Santana murmured into the pillow. Her suddenly serious tone dragged Brittany back to reality.

"Sure San, anything," Brittany's heartbeat crept into her throat, constricting the words as she spoke them. What was it she wanted to know? A question Santana felt she needed permission to even ask?

"Do you… Do you think I'm… think that I'm _dirty_, because of what he does to me?" She whispered 'dirty', like some forbidden word. Brittany didn't say anything. She was shocked that Santana even had to ask her this question.

"Santana, I will never think you are anything less than absolutely perfect," Brittany tightened her arms around her girlfriend. "Nothing that man does could ever change how I feel about you, you have to know that baby, tell me you know that to be true."

"I want to know that, Britt, I really do…" Brittany could see the tears welling up in Santana's eyes. She wanted to murder the man that made Santana question Brittany's love for her.

"Santana, where is this coming from?" Brittany was almost afraid to hear the answer, as she always was to hear anything that man did to her lover. Brittany could feel Santana's tears spilling onto her arm and she wanted to scream with the injustice of it all. Santana was a good person, the best person Brittany knew. Why did bad things have to happen to good people?

Brittany sat up and looked down at Santana, but Santana wouldn't meet her gaze. Brittany nudged Santana's shoulder, rolling her over so they were facing each other. Brittany lay back down and gathered Santana in her arms.

"Santana, my love, I hope you know that, no matter what happens in this world, you will forever be the love of my life, and nothing and no one could ever change that." Brittany's voice was firm, but full of care and concern.

"I just feel so… so broken, Britt," Santana sobbed, burying her face in Brittany's chest. Brittany could feel Santana shaking. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she knew how to make Santana feel better; wishing she knew how to make everything better.

Brittany rubbed Santana's back and gently reminded Santana to breathe, that she was going to be okay. Brittany stared over Santana's shoulder as her sobs reduced to sniffles. Lord Tubbington, who was sprawled out on the edge of the bed, stared back at Brittany. He cocked his head to the side in a condescending fashion, and Brittany knew what he was thinking.

_You do know what to do B, you know exactly what you should do._

Brittany's stomach clenched as she considered this. She did know what to do, she'd known from the beginning. She closed her eyes as the stranger danger mantra from elementary school crept into her head. _No. Go. Tell._ But Santana didn't want anyone to know. She made Brittany promise not to say anything to anyone. But this puzzled Brittany. She knew that by keeping Santana's secret, she was essentially allowing Santana's step dad to continue the abuse. But Brittany had promised Santana that she wouldn't say anything, and Brittany didn't want to break her promise. But she couldn't stand to keep seeing Santana get hurt. Back and forth went her thoughts. She just wanted to do what was best for Santana, but she wasn't quite sure path led there. Conflicted and frustrated, Brittany opened her eyes and peered over Santana's shoulder. Santana's bleary gaze drifted over to Brittany. Brittany couldn't stand it. This wasn't Santana. Brittany's girlfriend was confident in her beliefs, ready to destroy anyone who challenged her. Brittany was sure that if things were reversed, Santana probably would have attempted murder if someone was hurting Brittany. In fact, she wanted to go after Brittany's dad after she found out about what he had done. She absolutely hates him. So why doesn't she absolutely hate her step dad? Why will she do anything for her friends, but not for herself?

"Santana, can I ask you something"

Santana looked over at her girlfriend. Brittany's eyes were wide but she looked firmly back at Santana. Turning her head into the pillow, Santana sighed into the fabric and said nervously, "Yes, babe, of course."

"Why are we letting this happen? Why aren't we doing anything, everything, to protect you? Why do you think you have to deal with this all by yourself? If it were me, you'd lose it, you wouldn't just stand by and let it happen. So why are lettering it happen to yourself?"

Santana looked back at Brittany, her face was completely blank. Brittany softened her gaze, but Santana just stared forward.

"Britt, if I tell you why.. tell you this stuff, will you promise not to get upset or freaked out or anything? I haven't ever told anyone a lot of what I'm gonna say and I'm really self-conscious about this stuff…"

"San, I would never judge anything you do or say. I love you, and I want to _help you._"

Santana smiled weakly. "I know Britt, I just had to say it."

Brittany waited while Santana sat up and rearranged the pillows. When she settled herself on the propped up pillows, she reached her arm out and beckoned for Brittany to come lay with her. Brittany scooted under the outstretched arm and curled up beside Santana. Bringing her hand to rest on Brittany's shoulder, Santana traced her fingers along the pattern on Brittany's t-shirt.

"So you basically want to know why I won't stand up for myself and do something about Him. You're right, I'd go nuts if I found of this was happening to someone else I loved; I carry razor blades in my hair, for crying out loud. No way would I not do something. So why don't I think that I should do the same thing for myself? Well for a long time I did. I'd fight him every which way I could, but then it was just worse later. So why didn't I just tell my mom or somebody-"

Santana stopped and bit her lip, she hated her step father's psychological manipulation almost more than the physical abuse. She hated herself for falling victim to his scare tactics and threats.

"The first time it happened, He told me… He said if I said anything about what happened, that he'd… he'd do awful things. He told me all these things he would do to me if I told. He said he'd hurt my mom too. I don't know why I believed him, but I did and I still do. He says this is my job to make sure everyone's happy. After Dad died, mom was so sad, she hid it well but she was so lonely and sad and I hated to see her so unhappy. But then when she met Him, she started smiling again, and singing songs and going out. She was becoming more like her old self again. It was awesome, we weren't fighting as much and things were better. So when He said it was my job to do this for Him because he was making my mom happy again, and he asked whether I thought my mom deserved to be happy… I don't know; that got to me. I mean, what did I know? I was only 13… And he kept reminding me of all this stuff any chance he could. I just didn't know what to do."

Brittany paused, unsure whether she should break the silence. "That's totally understandable babe, but it's been 2 years, don't you think you're a little better equipped to handle this now? We'll make sure He can't get to you or your mom, he can't follow through with those threats, San."

"My head tells me their just words, but I just get so scared anytime I think about those things he says... Like pure terror. I can't even think clearly, I just freeze." Santana shuddered and closed her eyes.

"Okay baby, it's okay" Brittany reached up and stroked Santana's hair. Santana looked down at her and smiled faintly.

"I know Britt. It is okay.. or it was okay, because after a while I started to think about all the ways I could thwart him in the unlikely event he actually plans to act on his words; who to tell and when to tell them and what needed to happen after I told. And I would get so close to following through with one of these plans, but then I couldn't do it. I was just so ashamed and embarrassed and I didn't want anyone to know about it. And he started to realize this. He knew I wasn't keeping entirely quiet."

"Actually, it wasn't until right after we started dating, that he found another way to make do what he wanted." Santana whispered quietly.

Brittany sat up a little and looked at Santana.

"A few months ago, he started telling me that if I said anything that he would… he would come find you, Britt. He'd hurt you, and do awful things and I couldn't stand it. I'd do anything to make sure nothing ever happened to you. I wasn't going to risk you for me."

Brittany's heart pounded in her ears. She couldn't help feeling slightly nervous at the thought of Santana's stepfather. "But Santana," her voice faltered, but she kept going. "Now I know that, so now we can make sure he won't be able to get to me either, okay?"

"And that's what I've been thinking about recently. I can't do this anymore. But I'm so scared and ashamed and nervous about what will happen when my mom finds out or when I have to tell everybody what he did to me."

Just as suddenly as it had appeared, her nerves evaporated. Santana wanted to do something about this. Brittany sat up and beamed at Santana. Brittany knew exactly what to do.

"Santana, here's what we're going to do. Right now we are going to cuddle together and get a good night's sleep, and then starting tomorrow, we will figure out the best way to tell someone about what's been going on. Let's not think about it anymore right now, and I promise I won't make you do anything you don't want to do, but tomorrow we will start making it better, okay?"

Santana was exhausted, physically and emotionally. She welcomed the deep sleep that overtook her almost instantly. Brittany watched as Santana drifted on into unconsciousness, thinking about how happy she was that she had said something to Santana. She looked over at Lord Tubbington, who rolled his head back and yawned. _Lord Tubbington is so smart_, Brittany thought as she fell asleep.


	16. A Recurring Nightmare

Note: This chapter depicts explicit sexual abuse of a 12 year old. Be warned.

Chapter 16: A Recurring Nightmare

The heavy sleep that had overwhelmed Santana shifted into an uneasy slumber, punctuated by fragments of half-conscious awareness. As she drifted further into sleep, the same nightmare began to play. But it wasn't a nightmare, it was a memory, and Santana would remind herself of this each time she jerked herself awake. _So stop thinking about it, _she told herself firmly. The longer she fought it, the more persistent it became. This same struggle ensued every time Santana tried to sleep._ Brittany_, she thought wearily. She could feel her girlfriend next to her and the warmth of their bodies. Britt's thigh felt soft against her hand and she felt her lover's breath on her cheek and the pillow was soft under her head and she... she...

She was in her bedroom, tucked into her bed. The strip of light from around the door cast a faint shadow across her comforter. She could just make out the silhouette sitting at the foot of her bed. She stared, confused, as the figure moved closer to her. Santana pushed herself back into the pillows and pulled the blanket up to her eyes. Santana's step-father reached out his hand towards her as he spoke.

"You and me are just going to be real quiet now, yes we are. We're just going to spend a little time together, right now, just us. Some quiet time just you and me." She felt his hand brush her forehead as he pulled the comforter away from her face and off her body. She was frozen, unable to form any clear thoughts. He stared down at her lying there in her dark blue underwear and tie-dyed t-shirt. She saw something like a smile playing on his lips.

"That's a good girl, just be real quiet now, just like you're doing right now. That's right; you're such a good girl…" His hands moved to her legs, and then slowly over her hips and under her shirt. He ran his hands over her back and in one motion, lifted her from the pillows, pulled the shirt over her head and lay her back down. She felt his hands travel from her back down to her bottom, beneath her underwear. She stared at the ceiling above her, lying stiff and unmoving. He slid her undies down her legs and over her feet, and then lay down beside her.

"It's okay, now, this is going to be nice, this will be real nice but you've got to keep quiet, now, remember? I know you remember because you're such a good girl, just lay there quiet now, just relax." He mumbled this as he reached around Santana and cradled her against him. He grasped the leg beneath her and bent her knee up to her chest, sliding his leg over to hold her there. He ran his hand up her right leg and around her stomach, lifting her hips as he slid his other leg between her thighs. He kept her pinned there with his lower body and reached both hands up to her chest. She cast her eyes down to where he ran his hands over her breasts. His rough touch felt sharp against her bare skin, and hot tears leaked down her face at the site of his hands on her body. She looked back at the ceiling, at the green light that blinked on the smoke detector above her. _Blink. Blink. Blink._ He moved his right hand under her arm and snaked his grasp down and around to the back of her wrist. He stretched her arm out straight and held her palm against the mattress.

Santana reached out in front of her with her remaining unrestrained arm, but he too, reached out and grabbed her hand. He tucked her arm behind her back, trapping it there between their bodies. She started to shake, as her confusion gave way to fear. Her head was not working properly, her thoughts were slow and hazy and she couldn't remember how to speak.

"Just relax now, you're all right, you're going to like this, stop shaking now, just relax. This will be nice, that's right, nice and quiet now, that's a good girl." And his hand was on her thigh and she felt him rubbing between her legs, in a way no one had ever touched her before. She didn't understand what He was doing; it didn't hurt, like she had expected, but it didn't feel nice, like he kept saying, and she definitely didn't like it. It felt wrong and shameful, and her humiliation echoed in the cry she let slip.

"Quiet now, got to be quiet for me. That's a good girl," He whispered and Santana bit down on her bottom lip to stifle her whimpering. "That's right, just like that." He stopped rubbing and instead slid his fingers downward to trace around her sex. A new wave of fear gripped her as she felt pressure. _He's going to do it, this is going to happen_; her first clear thought since he had appeared in her bedroom.

"No, no please-", Santana finally found her voice. He stopped pushing and looked around at her, she couldn't meet his eye, and instead she continued to watch the blinking green light as he looked at her face._ Please,_ she thought,_ don't let this be how it happens. _Santana didn't know very much about sex, but she did know that this wasn't what she wanted, especially not for her first experience. "Please don't do this," she whispered, unsure where she was drawing her courage from. "I'm… I've never done this or anything and I…" she trailed off. She saw his eyes narrow out of the corner of her vision; her courage flickered.

"You just listen to me, now. You're a very lucky girl, lucky I'm here to show you how to do it right. This is for the best. I'm helping you, and then you're going to help me." His grimace transformed into a smile and her courage died. "You just be a good quiet girl, or else I might not be so nice." He moved his hand from her body towards her face. Santana flinched, expecting to be hit. He didn't hit her, but he smiled again at her reaction. "Oh yes, yes this is going to be so nice, you're going to love this. Open your mouth," confused, Santana parted her lips and he shoved two fingers in her mouth. "Suck on them like a good girl, now, yes just like that."

Tears coursed down her burning cheeks and she squeezed her eyes shut tight. He took his hand from her mouth and she felt him touching her again, sliding back and forth across her sex. She bit her lip again to suppress her crying. She felt the pressure again; felt him pushing into her; felt him slip one finger inside her. She couldn't smother her cries anymore, and she wept softly in her shame and discomfort. Santana realized that this was where the pain she had been expecting was going to start. She didn't want to think about where it was going to end.

"You see? This is nice, just like I said, right? Tell me how nice this is," he directed her, but she shook her head. "Maybe you want some more? Okay." He proceeded to slowly twist and slide his finger in and out of Santana. Her cries grew louder and he said, "Now if you don't stop making noise, I'm going to have to keep you quiet some other way, okay?" She desperately tried to repress her sobbing, but she couldn't stop, he was hurting her and he was going to hurt her more and she felt so sordid and ashamed. He pulled his hand from inside her and reached down to where Santana's underwear lay discarded at her feet. Santana struggled to break his hold on her, but he was too strong and she couldn't move at all. He reached back up and shoved the underwear roughly into her mouth and down her throat. Santana choked and spluttered, but the makeshift gag muffled her cries.

He smiled at her again, and slipped his finger back inside her. It went in easier this time, and Santana could feel wetness inside and around her. _I don't want this! Why is this happening?_ A torrent of shameful thoughts buffeted around in her mind. She could not understand why her body was reacting this way, as if she liked it? But her momentary surge of self-directed criticism was replaced by a stifled gasp as he forced a second finger inside her. This was the pain she had expected. He moved inside of her, and she felt a pinching in her stomach. She felt her body rejecting his presence, trying to stretch to make room for the intrusion, but unable accommodate his fingers. He continued to move inside her, speeding up sometimes, bending and curling his fingers. She kept her eyes shut tight, unsure of whether she wanted him to stop this and move on, terrified of what would happen next.

"Open your mouth," He demanded, pulling her underwear out of her throat. Santana's eyes flew open as he shoved his fingers between her lips. They were wet and salty, but she could also taste blood on them. When he pulled his fingers out of her mouth, she could see the blood on his hand. Santana closed her eyes again as he shoved the underwear back into her mouth. She lay limp in his hold, still positioned as he had carefully placed her at the start. She didn't know what he was doing, and she didn't want to open her eyes and look. She felt so tired; she just wanted to go to sleep.

A faint buzzing noise made Santana peak through her eyelids for the source. She couldn't see anything, but its presence was made known to her as she felt something vibrating against her thigh. It felt like an elongated egg, and he rubbed it over her hips and her stomach.

"Good girl, now, stop crying it's all right. I know you're going to like this, now, I know you will." And he tucked the vibrator against the top of her vagina. Immediately, Santana's stomach clenched, and she felt her body tensing up. She closed her eyes and gave into this new sensation. It felt like before, when he was rubbing her, but much more intense. She tried to straighten out her legs and move her hips, but he held her firmly in place. She felt his other hand abandon its task of pinning down her arm, as he pushed a finger back inside her. It hurt again, and she cried out, but the gag kept her from making too much noise. It still hurt, but beneath the pain there was another sensation. This new feeling pooled in her stomach and sent tingling surges throughout her body. The longer she laid there, the tenser her she became. She was breathing very fast, and she could feel sweat on her body. Her muscles began to quiver, and she struggled to move but he held her tight.

"You like this? Oh I know you do, I know you want more. Can you come for me? Let me see you come for me." Santana didn't know what he meant for her to do, but her body was clenched so tightly it was starting to hurt. When did this stop? What was he waiting for? Then she began to feel it, from deep in her stomach, like a wave building bigger and bigger, and then _Crash!_ The feeling exploded inside of Santana and she cried out against her restraints. Her body was pulsing; her heart was beating so fast, she couldn't catch her breath. Her body shook as she struggled to pull herself together, but she couldn't do it. He was still moving inside her and the vibrating egg was still against her. That overwhelming sensation was subsiding, but she could feel it building again in her stomach.

And then the feeling was gone. She couldn't feel him touching her anymore, and she couldn't feel the buzzing either. Keeping her eyes shut, she relaxed her body and breathed in deeply, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

"Now didn't that feel nice, like I told you?" He whispered to Santana. She wanted to shake her head no and scream, but she couldn't. She didn't know how to describe what she'd felt. It didn't feel good, did it? Did that mean she liked it? _No,_ she thought, _I don't ever want to do that again. _She didn't understand why her body had betrayed her; surly she could not say that she didn't like it, when her body so obviously gave it away? Santana didn't say anything; she just lay there with her eyes closed.

Finally, he moved his legs from where they held her, and sat up, releasing her from his grasp. She slumped over on her stomach and continued to just lay there, her underwear still shoved in her mouth. _Please let him leave, _she thought, _please just let him leave._ But he wasn't leaving, and somehow she knew it. She heard a zipper and then a shuffling, and then felt the bed sink back down as he climbed on again. She kept her eyes shut as she felt him lift her up and flip her over onto her back. She felt something beneath her, something on top of the sheets. Santana ran her hand over what she felt, and realized that they were towels. _What are the towels for?_ She wondered, but she wasn't actually sure she wanted to know.

"Open your eyes," he whispered. Santana did as she was told. He was kneeling beside her, but as she watched he grabbed her legs and pulled them apart. He dragged her body closer and positioned himself between her legs. Santana could feel the back of her thighs resting against his legs and hips as he kneeled there. His knees were hard against her bottom, and they poked into her skin. "Look at me," he was leaning down on her now, heavy against her hips and stomach. She wanted nothing more than to close her eyes, but she looked up at him anyway. His eyes were full of light, shining like a child's. She could see the anticipation on his face, just as clearly as she was sure he could see the terror on her own. He smiled at her, a twisted smile that made Santana nauseous.

He held his hand up in front of her face, and then reached down between her legs, between their bodies. She felt his hand on her, rubbing her once again. She also felt his penis against her legs. Tears slid down her cheeks as she felt him position himself at her entrance. She felt his hand holding her open. Suddenly he reached up and clamped his other hand over her mouth, holding the gag in place. He looked at her, smiled again, and forced himself inside of her.

She screamed, over and over again, but barely any sound escaped his hand held tight over her mouth. He pulled himself back out and slammed into her again. Her whole body rocked each time he moved within her. She was on fire. She was certain she could feel herself ripping around him. _Let me die_, she thought desperately, _I want to die._ The pain was unbearable, she could feel something sticky running down her legs and onto her back. _Blood,_ she thought, now aware of what the towels were for. Time seemed to stop moving as he continued to use her. The edges of her vision were blurring. She was sure he had torn right through her stomach. Her thoughts were becoming disconnected, and waves of darkness kept washing over her. Perhaps this was what death was like, she thought vaguely. Her screams tapered off into desperate sobs, all muffled by his hand and her underwear gag.

"So tight... so good...yes," he murmured over and over again as he moved within her. Santana couldn't feel her feet anymore. Her body was out of her control. She looked up into his eyes again, searching for something, anything to make him stop. He looked at her and smiled. "This. Is. What. You. Are. Meant. For." He punctuated each word with a deeper thrust. "You. Are. So. Sweet." He sped up his pace and Santana put all of her misery into an agonized moan of despair. She couldn't tear her gaze away from his face. His eyes rolled back and he continued to mumble as he moved his body faster and faster. Then he gasped and his body stiffened. He thrust again, twice, one last time, and fell forward, breathing hard. Santana felt something warm inside of her. She didn't dare move as he leaned on top of her, catching his breath.

He didn't move for a few minutes. Each time he inhaled she was pushed deeper into the mattress. Santana let her eyes fall shut as she waited. She could feel him still inside of her, though her body was desperately trying to push him out. A fierce ache had started deep in her belly. He stirred above her, and Santana opened her eyes. She watched him pull his elbows up beneath him, on either side of Santana's body. His face hovered over her chest, seeking out her eyes in the darkness. He smiled at her.

"Wasn't that nice, now?" He asked, almost comically. "No? Well maybe you will learn to like it." Santana choked back a terrified sob. "Now, this is our little secret, okay, Santana? You can't tell anyone else our secret, or else I'll have to hurt you again, okay? Remember," and suddenly he pulled his hips back and came slamming into her again. She screamed into her makeshift gag.

"Remember how this feels, bitch. If you say anything to anybody, I'll make you hurt so bad, you'll think tonight was fun. But I won't save all the fun for just you, if you tell. No, I'll have some fun with your mom, too, and maybe some of your little friends. Now wouldn't that be nice?" Santana shook her head back and forth. _I won't tell! I won't tell! I promise!_ She knew she could never tell anyone what had just happened, even if she wanted to.

"No one would believe you, anyway. They would all know you were asking for it. All I'd have to do was tell them how nice and easy you came for me in the beginning. Yep, you wanted this. This was your fault." Santana didn't know if he was telling the truth. She knew she hadn't wanted any of this, but she felt so wrong, so humiliated. She must have done something wrong. This _was_ her fault. What had she done?

"Let's have a little taste of what happens to little girls who don't keep quiet, shall we?" Santana shook her head vigorously. _No! No, I won't tell! I won't!_ He brought his hand down to rest on her hip, and then ran his finger along her back down the crack of her bottom. He pushed against her anus until she felt herself give way to his finger. She kept shaking her head, begging him to stop. He pushed his finger deeper inside of her, and she thought she might be sick.

"Tell me you'll be a good little girl for me, now. Tell me you know how to keep a secret." She nodded her head up and down. "Tell me. Say it." He pulled the underwear from between her lips.

Santana took a shaky breath and whispered, "I- I won't tell anybody, I promise." Fresh tears coursed down her cheeks.

"What won't you tell anybody?" He pushed his finger even deeper inside of her.

She gasped. "I won't tell anyone what happened! I won't, I swear!"

"You won't tell anyone about what we did tonight, and you won't tell anyone about anything else we do together. Say it."

"I won't tell anyone what you- what we did, or about anything… anything else we do." Santana's voice broke. She couldn't bear to think about what had just happened, let alone about it happening _again_.

"Because you know that it was your fault, because you were a bad girl." He moved his hips slightly, and pain shot through her body again.

"You were a bad girl," He said again. "Good girls don't come like you did. Good girls don't orgasm like you did with my little toy while I touched you." _Orgasm, _she thought. _Is that what I felt? _She _had_ been bad. She wasn't supposed to feel like that. He said good girls didn't get that feeling. It was her fault.

"So I know you won't tell anyone how you've been a bad girl, will you?" Santana cried out as he poked a second finger inside her. "You won't tell anyone, or I'll hurt you." He pushed his fingers deeper inside her still, and rocked his hips again. Santana gasped as pain shot through her body.

"I won't tell, I promise!" She sobbed and closed her eyes again, trying not to vomit.

"Good," he whispered, and removed his fingers. Her body clenched around his penis, which he still had crammed inside of her. Slowly, he pulled himself out. She cried out at the movement, until he finally let her go. She felt liquid pouring out of her, down her legs and onto the blood-soaked towels. He sat up and swung himself over to sit on the side of the bed. Santana couldn't move. Fragments of thought floated through her mind, but nothing stuck.

"You have to clean up. I'm leaving now, but I'm coming back up here early in the morning to make sure you've taken care of this mess. If I have to deal with it, you will be a very sorry girl, count on that." He eyed her fiercely; clearly hoping to look threatening, but all of Santana's fear had left her suddenly. Her whole body ached, the pain weighing her down physically, but her mind was very light. His intimating look suddenly seemed silly. She felt the muscles in her face break into a demented smile. He glared back at her.

"I'm sorry, but what is it that you find so very funny about my request?" He rose to his feet, towering over her helpless figure.

Her smile faded, but the lightheaded feeling was still running her brain. "My neurons are misfiring, I think." She said seriously, and she laughed again. _Yep, I've lost my mind. I'm going crazy,_ she thought, certain that this must be the case.

He glared at her, and then bent down to retrieve his pants. He pulled them on and refastened them as he said, "Clean this up. I'll be back." She watched him float towards the door and grasp the handle. She heard it slowly turn, and then light flooded through as he pushed it open. His huge figure filled the whole doorway and he retreated from the room and gently pulled the door shut.


	17. Cold Comforts

**Chapter 17:**

A fully awake, present day Santana sat fully clothed in the bathtub, with the shower running. The cold water soaked the underwear and t-shirt she was wearing. After awakening from her nightmare she had slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb her sleeping girlfriend. When that particular nightmare interrupted Santana's sleep, she always awoke from it with the same painful emptiness she had felt after that night when her stepfather first appeared in her bedroom. So Santana crept from Brittany's bedroom and locked herself in the bathroom, where she could sit beneath the frigid water in an attempt to wash away all of her emotions. Santana felt the water pounding against her shoulders as she sat curled in the bathtub; just as she had that night when she was twelve. Santana closed her eyes and began her habitual examination of that evening and the choices she made that lead to this recurrent situation— being locked in the bathroom in the middle of the night, trying to hold together the pieces of her mind.

Santana felt numb as she remembered the aftermath of that evening. She had no notion of how long she lay there, motionless in her bed after her stepfather had left her room. Every time she heard a car drive by, she wished she was in a car too, speeding far, far away from her room, her stepfather, her life. Finally she struggled to sit up, ignoring the protests from her aching body. The pain felt dull; far away. As if it was someone else feeling it. She reached for the light on the nightstand and placed her hand on the switch. Then she closed her eyes and flipped on the light. She was afraid of what she would see when she looked at herself. After a deep breath, Santana opened her eyes.

Her inner thighs were covered in blood. The towel over the mattress beneath her was soaked from the blood and semen. Santana fought the tears that prickled in her eyes. Instead she focused her attention on the task at hand. Santana slowly swung her legs over the edge of the bed and placed her feet on the floor. The burning between her thighs doubled as she moved. With one hand on the bed, she pushed herself to her feet.

Almost immediately Santana's legs gave out beneath her. She caught herself on the bed, but pain radiated throughout her body. She let out a desperate sob as she grabbed for the dresser to push herself up again. Slowly she rose to her feet, and made her way towards the bathroom.

Santana stumbled into the bathtub and turned the cold water on. Then she sunk down against the porcelain and curled her arms around her knees. She was dimly aware of how cold the water was, but she didn't care. She didn't think she would ever care again; never feel anything but this empty aching that seemed to be part of her now.

As the water washed away the fluids from her body, Santana noticed the bruising that was beginning to show on her thighs and hips. The water stung as it ran between her legs. She watched the reddish tinted water as it flowed towards the drain, washing away the visible signs of violence. How could this pain that Santana felt so thoroughly be indiscernible from the outside? She was getting cold, time to turn on the hot water. Santana whimpered as she moved to reach the knobs, but the surge of warmth in the water felt soothing; cleansing. Leaning back against the wall, she let the hot water run until she could submerge herself. She listened hard into the silence, feeling her heart pound against her chest, each beat seeming to echo underneath the water. She peered up through the surface and wondered what would happen if she just sucked the water. Would her body react and resurface before she lost consciousness? Or was her intrinsic will to survive as broken as she it felt? Would she simply float away as her body stayed behind in the tub? Santana didn't know whether she even cared, but before she could contemplate it further, she had a different thought.

Something tugged at her memory, a few fleeting images from a television program on a channel she wasn't supposed to be watching. The girl sat in one of those movie set chairs in front of a red curtain. Someone asked her why she did it, and she said it was because she could focus on the physical pain instead of the emotional pain. What was she talking about? Santana thought hard, closing her eyes, desperate for anything to make her feel something other than _this._ She opened her eyes, exasperated by her inability to remember. She was staring at a bottle of shaving cream on the shelf, when it came to her. That girl in the movie set chair would _cut_ herself with razor blades on her arms. Santana remembered being horrified when her younger self had realized what the girl was talking about, what the television program was discussing. _Why would anyone do that? _But something about the idea caught her attention now. Now that she was different, broken.

The water was getting cold; it was tinged a pinkish brown from the blood she'd already sacrificed to the evening. Santana sloshed water on the floor as she sat up straight, searching the bathroom for the pink package of disposable razor blades her mother had gotten from the store, when she spotted them on the shelf above the towels hooks. Carefully, Santana stood up and grabbed a towel. She released the bathtub drain. The water swirled around her feet as it disappeared. Santana gently patted her body dry, and stepped out of the tub. She turned to face the mirror that covered the wall above the sink.

Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen, from the opening her eyes beneath the bathwater or from the events of the evening, Santana didn't know. There were bruises like fingerprints around her breasts and above her hips. Again she felt his hands grasping her, holding her still while he defiled her body. Forcing the thought away, she took in the various scratches on her arms and waist. The one that stood out most ran from her temple down her cheek. It was still bleeding. She remembered him throwing his hand over her mouth, right before he was inside of her. The sting of his fingernail as it scraped her cheek was lost in the pain of him inside of her, but now she saw the mark and remembered. She hung her head, her shoulders sagged. The bruising on her thighs was deep purple now. She saw herself as she knew her stepfather saw her; naïve, easily manipulated, easily broken. Now, too late, she saw it too. He got inside Santana's head, and now he would always be there. Santana turned from the mirror and selected a razor from the open package. Then she rinsed out the tub, turned off the light and went back into her bedroom.

Now that Santana had something to focus on, it was easier to ignore the burning that persisted as she moved around her room. She stared for a moment at the stained towels on her bed, the remaining physical evidence of her rape. _Rape,_ Santana thought, _even the word hurts._ But she had already decided, no one could know what happened. She picked up the towels and wrapped then in her bath towel before burying them in the bottom of the hamper. She would wash them tomorrow, before her mom tried to do her laundry. The towels had done their job; there was no blood on the bed. Santana pulled out a pair of underwear, some sweatpants and a t-shirt. Pulling the clothes on, she turned to her desk. After rummaging in the top drawer, she found the pocket knife she knew had been there for ages. On the way back to her bed, she grabbed an old t-shirt.

Santana tore the shirt into pieces of cloth and laid them out before her. She picked up the razor from the bathroom. The dim light from her nightstand table shone through the opaque plastic cover, reflecting back on itself from the blades. Santana removed the cover and slid the pocket knife in between the blade and the plastic that held it in place. It was so easy. After a moment she held two gleaming razor blades in her hand. Santana laid her hand, palm up, against her knee. She grasped a blade between her thumb and index finger. Without hesitating, without even making a conscious choice, she slashed the blade across the soft underside of her forearm.

The cut was thin, but deep. Bubbles of blood were forming around the wound. Santana stared at what she had done. The blood was running down her arm now. She carefully placed the bloody blade down, and wiped at her arm with a strip of cloth. She wrapped the cut in the cloth and watched a red stain appear. But Santana felt an odd sense of relief at the sight of the bloody strip. She felt powerful, in control of the pain. She picked up the blade and ran it across her arm again. Again and again Santana drew the razor against her skin, reveling in the stinging of each slash, marveling at the liberation she felt.

Santana was breathing hard, tears stained her cheeks. She hadn't realized she was crying. She stopped cutting herself and looked at her arm. She picked up the biggest piece of cloth in front of her and wrapped it around the cuts, tying the smaller pieces around to hold it in place. Santana picked up the blades, the remains of the plastic, and the knife and wrapped them in another piece of cloth before stowing it beneath her bed. She pressed her face into her pillow and cried until she drifted off to sleep.

A knock on the door shocked Santana from her reverie. The water sloshed around her as she sat up straight, listening hard. _Brittany_, Santana's head told her logically, but until she heard her girlfriends voice through the door, she sat rigid, terrified. But Brittany was calling softly to Santana, asking her to open the door.

"Sanny, baby, it's okay, it's just me. It's Britt-Britt. Can I come in and sit with you?" Santana reacted instinctively, moving towards Brittany's soothing voice. She climbed out of the tub and trudged over to the door. Santana unlocked it and sank back against the bathtub, wrapping her arms around herself.

"You can come in Britt," Santana called back. The door swung open and then Brittany was next to Santana, holding her tight. Santana looked into her lover's eyes and saw the concern writ therein. Part of Santana hated herself for worrying Brittany, but Britt's arms around her, her simple presence calmed Santana.

"I'm sorry Britt, I didn't want to wake you," she murmured into Brittany's shoulder.

"I woke up and you weren't there. What's wrong? Tell me, baby, please." Brittany grasped one of Santana's hands in her own.

"I just had a bad dream, that's all. It's okay," Santana tried to smile for Brittany's sake.

"It was one of those dreams, wasn't it?" Brittany whispered.

Santana looked up at the ceiling and blinked back her tears. "Yea, Britt, it was. The worst one. The first time…" She trailed off as Brittany squeezed her tighter.

"What're you thinking about now?" Brittany asked.

"What happened after. After he left. When he came back the next morning."

"You can tell me, it will help. I promise." Brittany's voice sounded so comforting, Santana took a breath and leaned her head back down on Brittany's shoulder.

"I was just thinking about how I heard him on the stairs sometime after I'd fallen asleep. He came in and looked around. He looked at me and asked if I remembered what we had talked about. If I remembered my promise. I couldn't look at him, I just stared over his shoulder and told him that I did. Then he left." Santana shuttered. "What if I had just gotten up the next day and told my mom? What would have happened? I don't know, but I think about it all the time. If I had just told someone, I wouldn't still be in this mess." Santana choked on the words, and Brittany squeezed her hand.

"Come back into bed Sanny, come lie next to me and I will hold you so close that no bad dreams will find you. Tomorrow we _will_ tell somebody, and he will never hurt you again. I love you so much, let me help you, Santana." Brittany lifted Santana's head and looked into her eyes. Santana stared back, then slowly nodded. Brittany stood up and pulled Santana to her feet.

Back in the bedroom, Brittany peeled off the underwear and the t-shirt she was wearing and crawled into bed, patting the spot beside her.

"Let's sleep no layers tonight, okay? I want to feel you against me." Santana smiled weakly and climbed in next to her girlfriend. Brittany's skin was soft and warm as she curled her body around Santana's. After a while, Brittany's breathing became deep and steady again, and then Santana's did too.


End file.
